


Snow Angels, the Perfect Tree, and Frozen Limbs

by fromcrossroadstoking



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromcrossroadstoking/pseuds/fromcrossroadstoking
Summary: Roe doesn`t like the snow or cold but Spina finally convinces him to visit Philly during the winter. Turns out, experiencing snow as a civilian isn`t as bad as Roe thought it would be.
Kudos: 12





	Snow Angels, the Perfect Tree, and Frozen Limbs

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the HBO characterizations, not the actual men.

Trudging behind Ralph through knee deep snow, Gene questions what on Earth he`s doing here for approximately the ten millionth time that day. Ralph is jabbering away as they make their way through the frozen woods, regaling Gene with a thousand stories of winters past. Gene is doing his best to try and pay attention but his mind feels almost as numb as his limbs.

“You ever make a snow angel?”

“What?" 

"A snow angel.”

As Ralph looks back at Gene over his shoulder, Gene raises an eyebrow at him. Catching sight of the look on Gene`s face, Ralph lets out a laugh, “Right, sorry, this is your first _real_ snow. Don`t suppose you make mud angels or somethin’ down in Louisiana?” There is a teasing tone to Ralph`s words and he makes what is possibly the single worst attempt at a southern accent Gene has ever heard in his life when he says the word Louisiana. Gene snorts in amusement at the butchered mimicry of his accent.

“Ain`t heard of a mud angel. Or a snow angel.”

“Well, here. Watch. It`s like this.”

Ralph proceeds to lay back in the snow and wave his arms and legs back and forth. Gene bites back a laugh as he watches the ridiculous display.

“Ralph, the hell you doin’?”

There`s a massive grin on Ralph`s face as he stands back up and points down at his impression in the snow.

“Ta da! Snow angel!”

“No offense, but that don`t look like any angel I`ve ever seen.”

“Jesus, Gene. It`s a snow angel. Use your imagination!” There`s a thread of frustration underneath Ralph`s words and Gene feels a small pang of guilt.  
Ralph has been doing his damn best to give Gene some happy snow memories, practically begging Gene for several years now to come visit him in Philly during winter so he can experience his “first real snow” (he kept using the term"first real snow" like if he used it enough it would somehow negate Gene experiencing his actual first snow in Bastogne). And since Gene agreed a few weeks ago to take some time off and visit, Ralph has been going all out to make sure Gene enjoys his trip. They`ve done all the classic winter activities - ice skating, drinking hot cocoa by the fire, building snowmen, sledding, and now this - cutting down a Christmas tree. 

They`ve been wandering through the woods for what feels like hours now, searching for the perfect tree. At this point, Gene thinks they all look great and they should just pick any of them and call it a day. But apparently, finding the perfect tree is a big deal in the Spina family. And apparently, that means driving two hours outside of Philadelphia and wandering around the frozen wilderness for half an eternity. And apparently, it means that if your best friend happens to freeze to death while you do so, it`s a small price to pay.

Gene takes a deep breath as he continues following Ralph through the snow and promises himself that his next vacation will be somewhere the temperature never drops below a nice, toasty, 80 degrees.

As they reach a clearing, Ralph pauses at the edge of it, turns to Gene with a small smile and gestures to the scene in front of them.

“See? It doesn`t have to be ugly, ya know.”

Gene takes in the view - a sea of pine trees coated with a dusting of snow in the distance, the sun shining down on a field of pure white, making the snow practically sparkle underneath the bright blue sky. Gene has to admit it`s a beautiful thing. Well, he`ll admit it to himself. All he gives Ralph is a small shrug and a quiet, “’S'Alright.”

Ralph sighs, “You`re killing me, Gene.”

He doesn`t see the the playful smile Gene carefully buries in to his scarf.

It takes what feels like yet another hour to find the tree, although Ralph insists it`s only been twenty minutes. Gene`s frozen limbs make the task of cutting down the tree and dragging it back to the car seem like an almost Herculean effort, but somehow his arms and legs get through it. As they tie the tree to the car, Gene can`t stop thinking about getting back to Ralph`s and sitting in the living room under a blanket, a warm cup of cocoa in one hand and one of Ralph`s wife`s cookies in the other, as feeling slowly returns to his incredibly numb body.

“Alright! Looks good! Ready to go?”

“Couldn`t be more ready, Ralphie.”

Ralph crinkles his nose at the nickname. Gene learned about a year or so ago how much Ralph hated the nickname and, of course, being his best friend and all, has made sure to call him Ralphie every once in awhile ever since.

“Gene, I swear to God..” Ralph gives him a playful shove towards the passenger side door, “Get in the car, you jerk.”

As Ralph heads over to the driver`s side, Gene reaches down and scoops up a handful of snow, doing his best to squish it into a ball.

“Hey, Ralph?”

“Yeah?”

Just as Ralph turns to face Gene, he`s hit in the shoulder by a snowball. Gene stands there, a smile full of mischief on his face.

“Oh, it`s on!”

Neither of them are all that sure how much time they spend chasing each other, ducking and dodging snowballs, but by the end of it, they`re both fully out of breath, leaning against the side of the car.

“Ain`t that bad, I guess.”

“What?”

Gene smirks at Ralph, “The snow.”

“Told you so. Just ‘cause you don`t like to listen doesn’t mean I ain`t right." There`s a hint of triumph in Ralph`s smile.

"Now come on, let`s get outta here. I`m fuckin’ freezin’.”

Gene can`t help the laugh that bursts out at Ralph`s statement.

“Thought you yankees loved the cold?”

“Fuck you, Gene.”

As they climb in to the car and immediately delve into a playful argument about the radio, Gene thinks that he`ll probably never _love_ the snow, but maybe he doesn`t have to _hate_ it either.


End file.
